After A Lifetime Of Silence, It Is

There Is, In Fact, An Incredible Freedom In Having Nothing Left To Lose.

I Grew Into It. It Grew Into Me. It And I Blurred At The Edges, Became One Amorphous, Seeping, Crawling Thing.

Because I'm Not, In Fact, Depressed, Prozac Makes Me Manic And Numb - One Of The Reasons I Slice My Arm In The First Place Is That I'm Coked To The Gills On Something Utterly Wrong For What I Have.

Madness Strips You Of Memory And Leaves You Scrabbling Around On The Floor Of Your Brain For The Snatches And Snippets Of What Happened, What Was Said, And When.

In Truth, You Like The Pain. You Like It Because You Believe You Deserve It.